


These Zipper Blues

by formalizing



Series: Tumblr Writing [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/formalizing/pseuds/formalizing
Summary: He’s beautiful with late afternoon sun instead of anger in his eyes, looking longingly down the road like he’s never going to turn them back towards home.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yssanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yssanne/gifts).



> Originally posted [on Tumblr](http://all-these-formalities.tumblr.com/post/141285391204/when-sam-asks-dean-to-take-him-driving-when-hes).
> 
> For one of [@poetryandoldermen](http://poetryandoldermen.tumblr.com/)’s prompts: 'red lights'.
> 
> Title from "[1979](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4aeETEoNfOg)" by The Smashing Pumpkins.

When Sam asks Dean to take him driving when he’s 15, Dean doesn’t even try to argue that dad should be the one to show him. With the way those two fight nowadays, Sam’d never get enough actual practice to pass his road test.

He’s stop-and-go on the practical application at first, but Sam’s got the theory down cold; by-product of a life spent on the road more often than not. Early morning, yawning starts down long highways, sometimes with a fast food breakfast like an apology Dean’s already accepted and Sam never will. Afternoons spent parked in front of some stranger’s house, taking turns sitting in the driver’s seat, not able to reach the pedals but twisting the wheel and making the sounds all the same. Driving all night through the cold to save a few bucks on a motel room, scratching messages to each other in frosted-up windows until the heat comes on with a rattle and melts those little letters away.

They never did admit which one of them crammed those Legos down the vents. You could fill a book with all the ‘don’t tell dad’ brother secrets kept between them.

Once he gets the feel for it, Sam’s a textbook driver—a seatbelts, shoulder checks, speed limit driver. But when Dean tells him to get them out of the city on a warm day, when they’ve got gas money and nothing else to do, that’s when Sam’s at his best. He’s beautiful with late afternoon sun instead of anger in his eyes, looking longingly down the road like he’s never going to turn them back towards home.

His tight grip on 10 and 2 loosens up enough to crank the volume on the radio, blaring his station for once. And Dean will swear up and down that he would change it in a heartbeat if not for the house rules, but there’s just something to the sound of Sam’s voice when he’s singing along to the chorus of songs he knows by heart.

His fingers tap out the rhythm on the steering wheel, right in the worn-down grooves where Dean’s fingers have done the same, where dad’s did before him.

They switch places when the sun starts going down, and Sam toes off his beat-up sneakers and rides shotgun like that passenger seat was made just to fit him. He’s got one hand hanging out the open window as he sips at the lukewarm can of cola passed between them, lips curved into a little heaven-smile that Dean can’t stop his eyes from drifting towards.

Some nights they spend looking for trouble, leaving well-aimed bullet holes in Dead End signs like a signature they share; there’s gunfire graffiti that says ‘we were here’ in this and at least a dozen other towns.

Other nights, Sam will tuck himself sweetheart-close under Dean’s arm once the stars come out, looking up at him with a question mark in his eyes that asks if they can make their own brand of trouble. Parked miles away from the nearest set of headlights, in empty fields where only the moon can see, they’ll still leave the keys twisted back and the radio on low to cover the echo of sin-whispers.

Every time, Dean swears that it’s the last one. But he is a red light Sam is always ready to run.

Sam with his hands squeezing Dean’s shoulders and bony knees digging into the seat to either side of his hips, heavy in his lap like Dean’s the one who’s a flight risk. He says Dean’s name with only the air they share between their lips, slides his brother’s hands down to places they don’t belong but have been before.

Dean has never been able to resist Sam’s backseat begging.

So he grabs him by the hair and kisses him the way he said he wouldn’t anymore, slow motion perfect, licking the taste of half-flat soda from his mouth. When he’s got one spit-slick finger in Sam’s hole, and Sam’s got both their dicks in one of his undersized hands, Dean knows it’s not the last time. His fingers are as familiar with Sam’s body as they are with that steering wheel, aching to hold him too tightly.

Sam gasps, “don’t stop, don’t stop,” even as he’s coming over his own fingers, slicking the grip he still has on Dean’s cock. His whole body shakes with it, but he keeps rocking back weakly against Dean’s finger fucking into him. Dean drives it in a little deeper, a little more desperately, just to hear him moan, feel the vibrations of it as he sucks the taste of sweat from Sam’s neck.

“Wanna try two next time,” Sam murmurs, clenching around Dean’s finger like a dare, like they’re playing chicken and Sam’s not planning to lose. “I can take it. I could take it all if you’d let me.”

Dean comes with a curse on his tongue and Sam’s smiling lips against his own.

Sam writes him wet-window love notes in steam instead of frost, drawing drippy hearts on the glass with sticky fingers as he says, “Let’s just go until the next red.”

They’re surrounded by empty country roads, not a traffic light in sight—halfway to lost and getting closer.

“Please?”

Dean starts the engine and doesn’t turn the car around until the tank is nearing empty and his brother’s deep asleep, curled into his side. He gives him a taste for getting gone and doesn’t let himself think about the day Sam will put him in the rear-view, too.


End file.
